


What Happens in Hakone

by fencer_x



Category: Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 15:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: Takano "forgets" to remind Ritsu that the company vacation to an onsen in Hakone has been cancelled. Oops.





	What Happens in Hakone

> _**SUBJECT:** To all Emerald editing department members  
>  **BODY:** This e-mail has been circulated to remind all editing department members to conclude all manuscript submissions by the 19th in preparation for the upcoming Hakone Onsen Trip._
> 
> _Please notify the Editing Department Head of availability and rooming choices (single rooms are subject to an additional 5000-yen per-night fee, at the lodger's expense; smoking rooms are subject to an additional 5000-yen per-night fee as well) by the 15th._
> 
> _Further, please remember that while lodging and activities will be covered by the company, transportation to and from the onsen must be secured by each employee at their own expense._
> 
> _Let's have a pleasant onsen experience on the 20th!_

  


* * *

Hatori shoved the half-crumpled paper under Masamune's nose, shaking it to pull his attention away from reviewing a proposal he'd been poring over for the last half-hour. "You know there's no way Yoshikawa-sensei's going to have her manuscript ready for submission by this date."

Masamune batted the paper away, glaring up through his glasses and idly tapping his pen against his desk. "How is that my problem? She's your author."

Hatori let his arm drop back to his side, stepping forward and dropping his voice. He was probably trying to be intimidating, but Takano had dealt with Hatori long enough to know that he was just being his usual stubborn self. "She's my _very irresponsible_ author who needs someone holding her hand the entire time or she defaults on her deadlines at every given opportunity." His tone changed as he grit his teeth. "And if she found out I was going off to some onsen for a company trip, I'd probably come back and find her _regressing_ in her work—"

Masamune sighed loudly, rubbing his temples. "Fine—whatever. Don't go then—it's not like you're being forced to."

At this, a new voice perked up from just beyond a large stuffed bear, and Kisa's head popped into view. "We aren't?" Masamune raised a brow. "I mean—just, I've kinda already got _plans_ for that weekend…" And hadn't this damned trip been announced for three weeks already? It wasn't like Masamune was raring to go either—but they _were_ a team, and he hadn't gone on anything resembling a vacation in as long as he could remember (who liked going on vacations alone? And neither his nor Yokozawa's work schedules allowed them any time off together, plus it wasn't as if Onodera was just chomping at the bit to spend time alone with Masamune…). So…it just had seemed like a good opportunity…

His frown deepened as he reviewed the state of affairs in his head—that left himself, Mino, and Onodera as the only members going. While he hadn't yet received a hard yes from either of them, that they hadn't said _no_ explicitly seemed to suggest they intended to participate. "So neither of you intend to go, is that what you're saying?"

Hatori was silent, obviously having already gotten across his point, and Kisa just laughed nervously and stroked his cheek in a manner that had probably gotten him a few phone numbers in bars but just grated on Masamune's nerves. With another loud sigh, he waved Hatori away. "Whatever—we'll reschedule." And he knew they wouldn't. Another year would go by and the same excuses would come up, and maybe Yoshikawa-sensei really _was_ in danger of breaking another deadline if Hatori wasn't there to stand guard—or maybe it was just that Hatori would've rather spent time at the springs with that same Yoshikawa-sensei. Maybe Kisa really _did_ have plans—in fact, he most probably did, just more than likely they involved whoever it was that kept setting the guy's phone buzzing with text messages every five minutes.

Turning to his laptop, he pulled up his work calendar and scanned for the weekend the trip was to be, silently going through in his head just how hard and late he'd have to work for the next few days in order to get everything finished in time. It would be tough; Ichinose-sensei was cutting it particularly close to her deadline this cycle, and while she'd never broken, meeting a deadline could still be achieved even one minute before said deadline. He'd either be catching last trains home or pulling all-nighters most of the week just to squeak by if they wanted to submit by Friday the 19th instead of the following Monday.

By all accounts he should just call it and cancel the trip; he hadn't been lying when he'd said it wasn't required. It was a vacation; it was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to build bonds or some such shit.

He glanced up just as Mino settled back down at his desk. "Oi, Mino—" Mino turned that calm, enigmatic smile on him, and Masamune shivered; the guy was hard to read sometimes. "Sorry, but you can forget that email from corporate about the onsen trip. Doesn't look like anyone can make it this time." Mino just nodded, smile actually _growing_ , and turned back to his work. Did nothing faze the guy?

Settling back in his chair, Masamune managed to put the finishing touches on his proposal (autograph sessions always went over well, it was a sure-fire shot) and hand it off to an aide to deliver to the sales department when Onodera shuffled in, laden down with a stack of manga nearly up to his nose. "Onodera," he snapped, and the man instantly sprang to attention, nearly sending his tower of books toppling to the floor. Masamune watched in amusement as he struggled to steady the accident waiting to happen, and opened his mouth to remind the last member of their team that the onsen trip was canceled.

…And then shut it again. "…No, never mind," he muttered from far away, waving off Onodera's concern when his expression pressed his curiosity. "Forget I said anything." Onodera just shrugged, going back to his work, and Mino just smiled even wider.

* * *

Ritsu had mastered the art of avoiding Takano-san. He'd spent _weeks_ assessing the man's schedule, learning to tell when he hit the peak of his cycle, when he would be staying late at work, when he would be leaving early. He'd learned to predict on which days of the cycle he would be in a good mood and which days he'd be in a bad one, and on which days it was best to stay out of his way altogether or risk finding himself shoved up against a wall or flat on the floor with Takano-san leaning over him (not that such things didn't happen on _other_ days as well, but the guy had his touchy periods).

He'd learned to freeze at the sound of the key turning in a lock, learned the sound of movement in a genkan heralding Takano-san's departure or arrival, and learned to model his own schedule around it.

He'd learned all of these things…

But it still didn't help him avoid finding himself standing in socked feet, staring at Takano-san in his genkan, already dressed and twirling his keys on one finger. "Let's go; we'll be late."

One brow twitching in annoyance, Ritsu's shoulders slumped. "Is there…some reason we're going _together_?"

"Cheaper that way." And Ritsu winced, because—it was true, all things considered. It would be a good ten-thousand-yen round trip, and while two hours alone with Takano-san in a confined space was _far_ from Ritsu's idea of a pleasant way to start this trip, he also wasn't all that thrilled at the prospect of putting down so much cash for a train ride when he had a perfectly viable option being offered here now.

Nevermind the fact that he'd purposefully gone with cup-noodle meals for the past _week_ just so he could justify spending the cash and thereby avoid Takano-san's offer altogether.

Takano-san grabbed him by the shoulders and whirled him around, giving him a little shove back inside while he stepped in fully. "Run along and grab your bag, then."

"I'm not a _child_ ," Ritsu snapped—but of course did as he was told, grumbling the whole while just in case Takano-san missed the fact that he wasn't happy about this turn of events. The only light at the end of this uncomfortable tunnel was the prospect of a weekend away from work (even if it was partially filled with Takano-san) with his coworkers (and he _knew_ Kisa-san would be fun to chat up once he had a few drinks in him) at an _onsen_. Sure, it was mid-June, and sure it was far too hot to properly appreciate an onsen, but the very idea smacked of relaxation, and after nearly a year of constant fear that he was going to miss a deadline and thereby bring about the very downfall of Emerald itself, it was nice to finally be able to sit back, take a breath, and _relax_. And Takano-san was not going to ruin that for him, no matter what.

* * *

"...What."

Masamune shrugged innocently, tossing the room key in the air, and headed up the stairs to the second floor, overnight bag slung over his shoulder and not bothering to check to make sure Onodera was trailing behind him and hadn't just sunk to his knees in abject horror.

"Ta— _Takano-san_ , surely you're..." And then there was heavy stomping as Onodera mounted the steps behind him, laughing just the tiniest bit maniacally. "The others, they're—coming later though, right?"

"Mmm, don't think so..." He fingered the key and turned the little plate over in one hand, studying the number and trying to match it up to the numbers branded on the doors, counting silently. "I could've sworn I mentioned it."

"You _definitely did not_."

"Really wasn't much reason for us to just come out here alone, I thought—but well." He shrugged again. "We're here now, and we've got the room to ourselves. May as well make the most of it." He heard Onodera practically screech to a halt behind him, subsequently headed back towards the stairs with fading footsteps (presumably to then go beg the management for an extra room, he'd pay anything, honestly—or the nearest hotel, surely there had to be others open, right? _Right_?), and he called out with an annoyed huff, " _Onodera._ "

A pause, and Onodera's shoulders slumped in defeat as he steadied himself against the railing, a nearly visible black miasma of despair descending around him. "You can't be _serious_..."

Masamune took two steps forward and snatched Onodera's bag, slinging it over his shoulder and marching towards the room. "Get over it; we're having a nice weekend at this onsen and that's that. I'm your ride back anyways."

Onodera trailed after him at a safe distance, arms crossed over his chest and glancing nervously around the hallway as if he expected an attack at any moment. "There's a train I can catch just fine, thank you."

"The room's already paid for—"

"And why is it just the _one_ room? How were we supposed to fit five people into one tiny two-person room?" Masamune could feel the accusing gaze boring holes into the back of his head. "You knew this from the start."

Unapologetic as always, Masamune threw his weight into the door of _205_ when he felt the tumblers give beneath the key. "And if I did?" The room was a bit musty, but it would do since they weren't paying for it out of their own pockets and probably wouldn't be spending much time here anyways, given that the main attraction of the ryokan was its baths. It was far from the ritziest place in the neighborhood, but it was enough; he was more focused on the company than the accommodations as it was. He glanced over his shoulder, slipping their bags into a corner, and raised a brow when he found Onodera huddling just inside the doorjamb, perusing the room and obviously finding it wanting. "Does it not suit the young master?"

Jumping at the accusation, Onodera flushed and entered the room proper, taking a tentative walk around the room. "It's...not bad..."

Masamune snorted; it was a quaint little place, to be sure, but he wouldn't necessarily call it "not bad." For more reasons than the ones Masamune was most focused on, it was for the best that the likes of Kisa weren't along for the ride, as the man could bitch about _anything_. "Well, we won't be doing much more than sleeping here anyways, so it doesn't really matter, I'd say." When he caught Onodera's concerned expression, he added slyly, "Unless you had other plans?"

"H— _hardly_ ," Onodera groused, jutting his chin out superiorly and moving to unpack his things.

The staff had laid out two futons, and Onodera quickly laid claim to the one nearest the sliding doors that led out onto a small balcony overlooking the ravine the ryokan was perched atop, quite possibly the greatest draw. Masamune stepped gingerly over their bedding and pushed open the doors to let a late afternoon breeze float through, breathing in deeply and gazing out across the vista. It was definitely nice—Onodera or no—to get away from Tokyo; he'd turned off his cellphone, vowing not to turn it on again until they returned, and had advised Onodera to do the same.

Turning back around, he noticed Onodera eyeing the folded up yukata with conflicted longing, probably trying to decide if he wanted to hit the baths badly enough to chance wearing so little around Masamune, and he snorted. "Just hurry up and get changed already and stop dragging your feet."

Onodera threw him a glare, but it was laced with mild relief. "I was just trying to decide if I wanted to eat or bathe first was all," he reminded Masamune with such conviction, he _almost_ believed it.

* * *

The water was practically scalding when Ritsu slipped in, far faster than he should have—but Takano-san was right behind him, and even if he _had_ seen Ritsu's ass on several occasions, that didn't mean he deserved a free show just whenever he felt like it. Sinking lower into the murky water and keeping a careful eye on Takano-san, Ritsu furtively scooted to the far side of the pool. Business relationship, business relationship—he was just on a private outing with his boss, there was absolutely nothing to be worried ab—

"It's a public place; I'm not going to _jump you_ or anything, you know," Takano-san scoffed, taking his sweet time in stepping into the pool and being sure to put on a show (which Ritsu took great pains not to be caught watching; if he gave even the slightest hint of interest, then it was all over). "It doesn't do much good to have come to an onsen if you're uptight the whole time."

"Whose fault do you think it is if I'm uptight?!"

Takano-san just shrugged, sinking slowly onto a deep step and settling back against the stone wall behind them, letting his eyes fall shut as he absorbed the shock of the heat. "I'm pretty relaxed. You must not be trying hard enough."

"I'm trying plenty hard enough," Ritsu grumbled, but tried to mirror Takano-san's calm demeanor, keeping one ear open for the sound of splashing if the guy made a move. He had a point, in that it really was a waste of a weekend if he let their situation (entirely Takano-san's doing) ruin the stay. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing—it'd be just perfect if he let himself get overheated and spent the rest of their time there laid out flat on the futon.

"It's been almost a year since you started at Marukawa, you know." Takano-san's rough voice interrupted Ritsu's thoughts, and he slowly let his eyes flap back open, cast a sidelong glance at the man just to be sure he was still safely situated on the far side of the pool. "Another month or so, right?"

Ritsu reflected in his head around about when he'd transferred and nodded. "I believe so, yes."

Takano-san smiled softly to himself, head pillowed in a small space between two stones. "So what do you think so far? Shoujo manga." He let his lids flutter open, casting a shallow gaze at Ritsu. "You never wound up transferring over to Literature."

Ritsu bristled at the implication—that his love for literature hadn't been as great as he'd professed, that he'd found other reasons to stay in manga, that slowly, little by little, his drive to distance himself had been whittled away like sand on a beach—and snapped shortly, "So? Is there a problem with my staying a shoujo manga editor?" Takano just chuckled dryly, and Ritsu turned the question back on him. "You're not trying to tell me you always wanted to be a manga editor, right?"

The chuckle turned into a harsh bark of laughter, and Ritsu gave a start, jumping on his little watery bench. "I know I had weird tastes in high school, but give me some credit. Hell no." He splashed some water on his face and ran his fingers up through his hair, slicking back the damp strands. "It was what they needed, though, and Yokozawa convinced me somehow it would work out."

An understatement if Ritsu had ever heard of it. Having seen first hand how tight a ship Takano-san ran, the only shock now was that it had taken even a year to bring Emerald up to the rank it currently held; half that time must have been taken up by Takano-san just learning the ins and outs of the industry. "Well you sure seemed to get a handle on it quickly for a genre you never had much interest in."

"It helped that I didn't bitch and whine about being stuck with a job I wasn't suited for," he responded pointedly, and Ritsu glanced over, offended, only to find Takano-san staring at him in amusement. "Still, I guess it doesn't matter how much you complain so long as you get the job done at the end of the day."

Ritsu shifted uncomfortably, stomach churning in that sick way it tended to whenever he found himself torn between embarrassment...and pride.

* * *

Dinner was a somewhat tense affair, as Takano-san seemed to have arranged for them to dine in their room (no no, just _the room_. It wasn't _theirs_ , it was just the room they were sharing _for now_ ) rather than in the dining hall with the other few guests still straggling around the onsen this close to the end of the season.

Ritsu had discovered over the months that, for all his pomp and bravado, Takano-san really liked...the simpler things in life, and one of those things was sharing a meal together. It had started off simply being the odd post-work drink (which really was more Takano-san grabbing Ritsu and dragging him into his apartment and refusing to let him leave until they'd had at least one beer together) and had evolved from there into Ritsu being forced to help Takano-san finish off his leftovers and had—just once—then escalated into Takano-san luring him inside under false pretenses involving a couch that needed moving and making him try a fancy curry-omlette recipe he'd apparently pilfered from Yokozawa-san the last time he'd been over. He'd only just barely managed to keep the man from trying to write obscene messages in ketchup on the egg as a final touch.

And now, it appeared they were scaling another step by sharing this humble meal in a humble little ryokan in not-very-humble Hakone, just the two of them. If they really _had_ been just a boss and his subordinate, Ritsu might have found it a bit amusing and even engaged in small talk, but given that he was still expecting Takano-san to toss aside their trays at any given moment and rip off his yukata, Ritsu found it quite difficult to concentrate.

It wasn't like he thought Takano-san lacked any self-control whatsoever, it was just...a feeling he got, whenever they were in anything that might be construed as _close proximity_. He grew all too aware of where Takano-san was, what state his breathing was in, how loud his heart was pounding, how flushed his skin was, as much as if it were his own—and he could feel Takano-san watching him, practically undressing him with his eyes, and _that_ meant his thoughts were no longer innocent and that Ritsu would very soon find himself swept away once again and he _hated that_. He fought with all he could muster to keep from going under, from surrendering, because he was a man and he had his pride, dammit, and just because Takano-san could electrify his skin with a touch didn't mean he had to just _melt_ right under him and—

"Onodera!" Takano-san snapped a finger in front of him, annoyed. "What's wrong with you? Geez."

"Eh?" he responded stupidly, jerking to attention and realizing he'd been staring into space for the past few minutes. "I—sorry, I was...thinking."

Takano-san just raised a brow, but didn't press it, instead setting aside his chopsticks and giving thanks for the meal before rolling onto his knees. "I'm going to take a shower—are you headed back to the baths, or have you had enough for today?"

Ritsu shoveled the last of his rice into his mouth and repeated the gesture, swallowing with some difficulty. "No—I'll stay. I've got some reading I'll get in while you shower. I can take the second shower."

Takano _hmm_ ed softly and straightened his yukata when he rose up, running fingers through his hair and shuffling over to his bag to retrieve his sleep clothes and bathing utensils. "We can always save water and bathe together..."

" _Takano-san_."

* * *

When had their bickering evolved from genuine sniping into annoyed but relatively good-natured barbs? Had Onodera just grown used to Masamune's idle comments, letting suggestions like _let's shower together_ and _I'd wake you up every day if we slept together_ roll off his back as easily as an invitation to go out drinking with Kisa or the others? It wasn't as if Masamune's passion had faded with time, hardly banked but rather blazing brightly and pulsing with want whenever he detected the slightest chink in Onodera's armor.

But before he knew it, Onodera had...opened up to him. Slightly. Not _really_ , but kind of. He still liked to pretend that they were nothing more than work relations as often as he could, but every now and then he'd crack, and Masamune would see instead the Onodera he only saw in moments of heightened emotion, the Onodera who'd grown from _Ritsu_ into a strong-willed man who loved like he had but one day left to live, jumping without looking and hoping someone caught him. And Masamune always caught him, even if he had to let him go again when day broke.

Catch and release; it was the game they played, and Masamune often caught himself wondering if Onodera even realized how _tragically appropriate_ it all was. Now _he_ was the one playing the man infatuated with him; turnabout was, he supposed, fair play.

He cast a glance to the bathroom at the sound of a squeaking faucet running dry, glad that he'd had the foresight to request a "suite" (not that it quite lived up to the name) with a private bath rather than take his chances with the public bathing area provided for most patrons. This far from work, from their old lives, from friends and family and fiancees, he was not prepared to share Onodera with anyone; privacy was a premium he valued quite highly just about now.

He turned his gaze back to the book Onodera had been engrossed in: Sumi Ryouichi's newest endeavor. Interesting enough, if you were into that sort of thing; Masamune wasn't a particular fan. He snapped the book shut just as Onodera wandered out, pink from the warm water and bundled up in a clean yukata while he sopped his face and hair. Forcing his gaze away, he contented himself with reviewing the inside flap while Onodera busied himself with his bag, stuffing his toothbrush into a side pocket and rooting around for what turned out to be his cellphone. "Oi, I told you to turn that off..." Masamune griped, tossing the book onto the low side table.

Onodera looked abashed but clutched the device to his chest protectively. "I just wanted to see if Kaitou-sensei had received her manuscript..."

Stalking over, Masamune extended a hand and snapped his fingers in Onodera's face. "Hand it over; we're on vacation."

Rising to his feet and stepping backwards, Onodera protested, "It's just a quick check! I'm not calling anyone or doing any business!"

Growling his frustration, Masamune crossed his arms. "You're worse than Hatori; even he knows how to relax once in a while." Onodera opened his mouth, likely to unleash some retort like _who could possibly relax with someone like Takano-san around?!_ but quickly snapped it shut again, flushing and returning his cellphone to its pocket while Masamune watched, somewhat vindicated.

"It's your fault if something's gone wrong, though," he griped, slipping to his knees on his futon and casting about for the pillows the staff had left them. "The next issue's going to default and you're going to go down in history as the man who saved and then ruined Emerald and be tossed out on your ass."

Masamune snorted at the obvious melodramatics and settled down onto his own futon, leaning backwards and shaking his head in amusement. "I'll go broke and have to live with you."

"Yeah _right_ , because that'll happen."

"I'm good at housework, and your place is a wreck. I'll be your maid for room and board."

Onodera gave a superior sniff. "I'll have you know my apartment is spick and span—much cleaner than when you last saw it."

"I'll believe that when I see it." And Onodera opened his mouth to offer such an invitation, but quickly realized the trap he'd nearly walked right into, and instead ignored the comment. Masamune watched him, lips curling up at the corners at the way the guy still walked on eggshells even when trading banter, permanently keyed to a heightened state of awareness around Masamune. He leaned forward onto his knees, resting his chin in one palm and just staring. "...We definitely should do it, though."

"Do what?"

"Live together."

The pink that had faded after Onodera had exited the shower now returned full force, and he sputtered his objection. "I don't need a roommate, least of all _Takano-san_ —"

"Not a roommate. Live together."

The flush darkened, and Onodera grew increasingly uncomfortable with the line of conversation. " _Either way_ , I'm perfectly capable of living on my own and don't need someone watching over me." When Masamune didn't follow this up with another suggestive comment, he continued, "You can stay just where you are, thank you."

Masamune lifted his head, smile waxing just shy of sly. "Where, right here? Cause I think my feng shui is out of balance here, to be honest..." He rolled onto his knees and started shuffling over onto Onodera's futon, who promptly exploded in protests, shoving him backwards—without much effort, really—and trying to scramble to his knees before being practically tackled by Masamune. The guy was more slippery than a _fish_ sometimes, it wasn't even funny. "Quit squirming, geez."

"Of course I'm going to squirm! You're trying something funny again!"

"So?" Masamune groused, trying to avoid being kicked as Onodera struggled beneath him now. "We're on vacation; just go with it."

"I don't _want_ to just g—" But the rest of his protests were cut off as Masamune pressed a kiss to his lips, demanding and entreating at once, begging Onodera to just give up quickly tonight, because he'd had his energies sapped by the baths and really didn't feel up to reminding Onodera that _honestly_ , after nearly a year, there were only so many arguments the guy could make before it started to sound rehearsed, old, _boring_ , and they could both find sleep a lot faster and a lot more satisfyingly if they took a roll in the sheets before bedding down.

Beneath him, Onodera stiffened at his attentions, but wilted after a moment, pouring defeated moans into Masamune's mouth as his hands went limp at his sides, releasing Masamune's shoulders. He pulled back in peace, pressing a kiss to the side of Onodera's mouth, and chuckled against the skin still damp from the bath. "I really don't get you sometimes..."

"What's there to get?" Onodera groused, but his voice was a bit deeper and rougher, and his lips were already swollen from kissing. "I just don't like people kissing and groping me against my will."

"Hey," Masamune protested with mock offense. "There has been _no_ groping yet."

"So I can preemptively object to it?" Onodera pressed, tone equally mocking.

"You can," Masamune allowed with a shrug. "But I can't imagine why you'd want to." He leaned down and pressed a kiss just under Onodera's jaw, licking the pulse point along the smooth strip of neck below it and continuing down Onodera's body at an agonizingly slow pace he prayed the man would soon object to with cries of _Takano-san_ and _please_.

"M—maybe because..." Onodera started, voice growing short when Masamune reached the "v" of exposed chest and brushed aside one flap, flicking his thumb over a nipple and relishing the way Onodera flinched; he'd always been so _responsive_. Masamune wondered if he couldn't just come from watching Onodera pleasure himself... It would certainly bear testing some day. "Because I don't like having to go along with everything all the time." And at this, Masamune frowned, leaning further over Onodera to put their faces closer together. "You always just do what you want, and I..."

"...Then _you_ try taking the first step some time." And he half expected the immediate retort to be along the lines of _like that'll happen_ or _if I did that, you'd be waiting forever, pervert_ , but instead what he got was sheer _silence_ —silence, filled with heavy breathing and gulps to dispel nerves and grunts of frustration but no _talking_ , and Onodera's face was a battlefield of emotion.

So confused was he by this unexpected response that he didn't even protest when Onodera lifted up onto his elbows first and then shifted to his side before rolling to his knees and forcing Masamune off of him. Dumbfounded at this turn of events—a displacement accompanied not by shoves and harsh words but calm, methodic purpose—Masamune could but follow along with whatever Onodera wanted of him: which was, apparently, for him to lie down on his back. Well. That was _new_.

Slowly twigging to Onodera's intentions, Masamune obliged by leaning back onto his elbows first, not yet content with losing sight of Onodera's purposeful maneuvering, his face a blank mask hiding the emotions, the desire, playing just below the surface. He had a _plan_ it seemed, and Masamune wanted nothing more than to see it bear fruit, beyond curious as to just what Onodera would look like when he finally got his way.

Here, Onodera paused, though, and the mask cracked just a sliver to expose a man who finally was on the verge of fulfilling some wish but balking at the final step. He didn't know what to do—or didn't want to acknowledge just what it was he wanted to do. And neither of those conditions was all that appealing to Masamune, sitting there silently begging Onodera to get his act together, have some balls, just _go for it_. He shifted his weight slightly and let his knees fall open just a bit, not sure what Onodera intended to do but hoping beyond hope it involved his cock somehow. Otherwise they were going to have to have _words_ about how it wasn't nice to tease, and Masamune _really_ didn't want to end such a lovely weekend on a sour note.

Onodera's blush came back full force, making him look all the more like his little freshman self, and he braced trembling hands on Masamune's knees, shifting forward just slightly, licking his lips and gaze flitting from Masamune's chest to his abs to his thighs and pointedly avoiding his cock. Tilting his head to the side, Masamune regarded him passively: this was more proactive than Onodera had ever been in nearly a _year_ of their dancing around one another, and he'd come this far and yet...clearly had no clue how to proceed. It would've been amusing out of context, but as it was, Masamune's heart was too busy doing a double-beat tattoo in his chest to think about the absurdity of the situation.

He lifted up a bit more, enough to reach forward with one hand and brush a few strands of hair behind Onodera's ear—who didn't wince, didn't flinch, just narrowed his eyes in frustration (at himself? At the situation?) and allowed it, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Shifting his weight to rest more on his knees, Onodera lifted one hand and laved a wide strip of saliva from wrist to fingertip, up and then down—and then paused as realization of what he was doing dawned slowly, and he pulled his tongue back into his mouth and swallowed thickly. Masamune despaired for a moment that his better senses had returned and he would now be left to go tuck himself away in their bathroom and jerk himself to completion because Onodera couldn't fucking admit in the privacy of their own room that they had _something_ , something _good_ and long-lasting and solid.

He frowned, trying not to sigh in frustration. "Onodera—" He started, but the man cut him off with a sharp look and instead braced his hands against Masamune's knees, sliding his palms slowly down his inner thigh and shifting back the flaps of the yukata to expose his cock, already half-hard from the kissing and expectation.

And then Onodera lowered himself and showed Masamune what he’d really learned in their nearly twelve months together—with _vigor_.

* * *

Ritsu was in a fit state—what the _hell_ was he doing?

They'd had a relatively pleasant chat in the baths and an uneventful dinner—both good things in Ritsu's mind—and he'd started to entertain the fanciful idea that maybe Takano-san would be a gentleman on this trip, would be satisfied with just getting to spend time with Ritsu and wouldn't feel inclined to press for more than Ritsu was entirely prepared to give.

Yeah, _right_.

He'd felt conscious control of the situation slipping from his grasp, the way it always did when Takano-san's thoughts turned from work to play and he asserted his intentions by pressing Ritsu against the nearest available flat surface (horizontal, vertical, he wasn't picky). It was _embarrassing_ , the way Ritsu couldn't help but get swept away, and at some point it became just too much to handle, too much for any self-respecting man to bear, especially when subjected to such humiliation by someone he didn't want to show weakness to.

So, he felt he was justified in responding the way he had. He'd been pressed, prompted, and finally provoked to such extremes, and if Takano-san wanted to see him take some action, he _would_ dammit. He was under duress, and if a tiny part of him was thrilled to have an excuse to be able to try making Takano-san feel the way _he_ always felt, then that was just a happy accident.

It was, quite frankly, the most embarrassing thing Ritsu had ever attempted in his life, and he certainly hoped Takano-san didn’t expect this to be a regular thing they did, more than he hoped Takano-san didn’t expect _sex_ to be a regular thing they did.

He could count the number of cocks he'd ever touched on one hand, but in all his years of trying to forget about Saga-sempai, in all his time _with_ Saga-sempai even, he'd never… It was something people had always done to _him_ , never anything he'd ever done for someone else, and certainly never something he imagined doing for Takano-san.

He hadn't even really _meant_ to do it, not initially. He'd just thought to touch him, stroke him a bit, because that was safe and comfortable (relatively speaking) and familiar, and he knew it felt good because Takano-san's _face_ when Ritsu'd done it before had very nearly undone him. But then he'd flashed onto all those times watching Takano-san lower his mouth over Ritsu's shaft, his eyes hooded in shadow and the dark glint they took on when he glanced up while bobbing up and down, the amazing sensations of pressure and a rough tongue stroke down _just so_ that always had Ritsu fisting his hands in the sheets and biting his lip and spurting his climax in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

He wondered if Takano-san realized what that felt like—to be helpless for all the pleasure and intensity and writhing underneath someone else like that. He ought to, if he didn't.

Takano-san was already calling his name out in panic before Ritsu's tongue even brushed his tip, seemingly thinking that surely Ritsu didn't know what he was doing and thought to save him from further embarrassment, but Ritsu ignored him, as Takano-san so often ignored _him_ when doing this, and tried to review in his mind all the little movements that Takano-san used to drive him wild. Flicking his tongue just at the base of the crown, pursing his lips over the tip and sucking, taking him in as far as he could without gagging shamefully.

Beneath his hands braced on either hip, he could feel Takano-san shudder, trying not to thrust up into Ritsu's mouth (which was polite, all things considered) and struggling to keep his breathing calm and even, but Ritsu's ears, sensitive to everything just now, could hear the whine laced in his every breath, could feel Takano-san staring down at him with and watching Ritsu try his best to show him just how frustratingly out of control such attentions rendered one.

And then, in what felt like no time at all (surely more embarrassing than responding favorably to something that felt as good as a blow job), Takano-san was reaching down and brushing a finger across his forehead, pressing lightly and trying to guide Ritsu away from where he'd been happily sucking on the tip of his cock, warning him that he was close, and Ritsu gave a final perfunctory lick up the shaft before pulling back—

—narrowly avoiding a spurt square in the face, but still managing to get a ribbon striping down one cheek onto his neck. He jerked back like he'd been slapped, rolling back into seiza and frantically wiping with the sleeve of his yukata. "Oh—geez, that's disgusting—!" he screeched, wiping even his tongue despite realizing full well the futility of the gesture. It was one thing to pleasure someone with your mouth, another to ingest their bodily fluids, and just because Takano-san didn't seem to mind swallowing didn't mean Ritsu wanted any of the stuff anywhere near his mouth (though giving head was hardly conducive to keeping such fluid away from one's mouth…).

But then Takano-san had the nerve to _laugh_ , a loud, deep belly laugh that shook to the bone, and who was _he_ to laugh given the ridiculous state he was in himself, yukata falling off his shoulders and barely held in place by the tie at his waist and cock hanging out, pink and limp for all to see?

Ritsu wiped his cheek and neck again for good measure with the clean sleeve, glaring sharply and trying to determine if he'd been successful at all in his endeavors to show Takano-san how frustrating it was to be so undone. Something told him things hadn't quite gone according to plan.

* * *

It was far from the most amazing blowjob Masamune had ever received—man or woman—and truthfully, it didn't really rank that high in absolute terms either, but more than the sensations themselves, Masamune was turned on beyond expression by _who_ was doing it and just how fucking amazing he looked while doing it.

He could've spent the rest of his natural life watching his cock disappear between Onodera's pursed, pink lips and died a happy man, entranced by the way he approached the task with much the same sheer determination—more than making up for his lack of skill—that he might approach a storyboard or final draft. That same determination, often bordering on stubbornness that would one day surely prove Onodera's undoing, was proving very useful in getting Onodera to try new things, push himself. If it took ten years of thinking he'd been Saga's plaything to bring that out in him…perhaps it was worth it in the end.

He couldn't help but laugh out loud at Onodera's expression of horror when he didn't move out of the way fast enough to avoid being splashed when Masamune couldn't hold it in anymore, considering the guy had spent the last few minutes eagerly sucking him off; had he expected flavored tea to come spurting out or something? Onodera had just given him a look that suggested he rethink that laugh, and Masamune quickly stifled it, raking a glance over the man before deciding that yes, there were definitely more enjoyable ways to proceed from here than to find himself slapped (again).

He rolled shakily onto his knees and leaned over Onodera where he sat, forcing him backwards until he had to break seiza and scramble to support himself on his elbows. "Wa—wait! Takano-san?!"

Masamune paused, patient and calm—and was honestly grateful for the protest given that he wasn't exactly a teenager anymore and desire for Onodera aside, he wasn't going to be in any fit state to engage in any activities that required his explicit participation until he'd been given a few minutes to recover. He could always suck a bit on Onodera, though—return the favor as it were, or just make out until he felt up to fucking (which he didn't expect to take too long, since Onodera had a habit of reducing his refractory period to all but nothing).

He met Onodera's worried, confused gaze, and felt his lips twitch up at their corners, prompting, "…What? You wanna do me, too?"

All the blood in Onodera's body that hadn't been shunted to his cock now pooled in his face, and he protested hotly, "No!" bracing a hand against Masamune's chest to keep him from pressing any further forward. "No."

"Good," Masamune laughed softly, and used a free hand to pull Onodera closer instead, pressing a kiss just below his ear and whispering _sotto voce_ , "Cause I _definitely_ wanna do _you_." He slipped his other hand under Onodera's yukata, pushing apart the flaps and idly stroking the stiff shaft poking out and demanding attention. Onodera shuddered in his arms but made no further protests, instead pressing his head into the crook of Masamune's neck.

"So did it…was it really bad?" he croaked pathetically, voice muffled against Masamune's skin, and he realized the great power he held right now. To praise and be accused of idle flattery, to critique and ensure that Onodera never tried such boldness again, to say nothing and leave him wondering if it was even worth it.

"Not at all," he allowed. "I think we should make it a part of our regular line-up, rather." Onodera pulled back, an ugly frown splitting his face, and looked away. At least he wasn't yelling. Masamune cocked his head in amusement and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and sharing slow, recovering breaths. "…Thank you."

* * *

It was late, almost _early_ , and Takano-san had fallen asleep (at least he was pretty sure he was asleep) some time ago after Ritsu had finally gotten the guy to roll off him, shoving him off to the far side of the futon even if he refused to be removed entirely.

It was annoying how quiet and calm Takano-san could be while he slept, given how much of a pain in the ass (sometimes quite literally) he could be while conscious. He didn't have a care in the world, didn't have to worry about sharing a bed with someone who was liable to jump him at any minute, whose only goal in life seemed to be forcing Ritsu to fall back in love with him through any means necessary.

He blinked a few times slowly, sighing to lower his heart rate. He hated it, definitely, how Takano-san always took one-sided actions, whether it was something as mundane as tricking Ritsu into accompanying him on this trip (hah! That this was _mundane_ said something…) or in anything they did with one another in private. He'd told himself that was why he'd done what he had, why he'd subjected himself to something like that…

But really, regardless of his intentions, it had felt…really good. To make Takano-san feel good, physically _and_ emotionally even. He always had to assume Takano-san liked what they did, seeing as he was the one who initiated everything, but when the tables were turned, that was when Ritsu really could tell that _yeah_ , he'd liked it, had wanted it, had been more than happy to open himself to Ritsu and enjoy what he offered. It was _frustrating_ and fulfilling, both at once.

He hated that Takano-san always took the first step…but then, didn't he have a point? It wasn't as if Ritsu would ever pull Takano-san into the cordoned off vending machine area for a kiss behind the recycling bins, or be the one to drag Takano-san into _his_ apartment for once and press him against his door, rutting in the genkan. If Takano-san never pressed him to engage in such activities, what would happen? Would they _really_ just go back to a normal boss-subordinate relationship? Did he want that, given that he'd only just come to accept that _fuck_ he really was going to have to deal with all that fear and uncertainty that came with falling in love with someone—all over again?

Hell, even if Takano-san had innocently asked him along on this trip, he'd probably have refused; he couldn't even bring himself to agree to have dinner with the guy in his apartment, and this was _so_ beyond sharing a couple cartons of cup noodle.

He just…needed more time, really. Except it had nearly been a year, he'd realized when Takano-san had brought it up earlier, and while he was nowhere near close to shacking up and being all _domestic_ with Takano-san, he'd long stopped denying that _yeah_ , he definitely felt something, and it definitely felt like _love_ , whether he wanted to feel that way or not.

It was only, he'd spent _so much time_ fighting, scared to give in and let Takano-san try to show him that their ten years apart had been simply born of misunderstanding, and _once bitten, twice shy_ pretty well summed up Ritsu's feelings on the whole matter.

He lifted his head and glanced over at the unoccupied futon, contemplating sneaking over onto it and getting some sleep before they were woken in the morning for breakfast and checkout. After a moment, though, glancing back down guiltily at Takano-san slumbering peacefully and taking up a good two-thirds of Ritsu's futon, he settled back alongside the man and continued watching him in silence, trying to figure him out.

He could smell the faint scent of the bath soap they'd both used, and sweat from the damp air and warm summer night clinging to them.

Maybe they should spend more time like this, he found himself musing. Away from Tokyo, from work, from their lives, just getting to know the people they'd grown into, relearning each other's idiosyncrasies and habits and rhythms. Even after all this time, after all they'd done together, he still had this sick feeling when they were alone because he didn't feel like he really knew Takano-san all that well. And he _wanted_ to, he really did—he just couldn't very well tell Takano-san himself that.

Beside him, Takano-san rolled onto his back, and then further onto his side, placing his back to Ritsu and taking most of the blanket with him. Exposed, Ritsu glared at the broad, bare back and tried to gently tug the blanket from Takano-san's grip, to no avail. He released a resigned sigh and rolled onto his side, scooting back just enough until he felt the length of Takano-san's back pressed against his own.

"Don't do annoying things like that when people are sitting here trying to fall in love with you, jerk…"

* * *

Ritsu awoke the next morning with an enraged squawk as a wet towel, heavy with dampness, smacked him in the face. "Wake up, it's almost 10."

He sputtered his rage, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his yukata tight around himself. "Wake people up gently, would you!"

Running hands through his hair in the mirror, Takano-san shrugged. "Tried kissing you awake, but you just wouldn't budge…"

"Y—you didn't do that."

Takano-san caught his eye in the mirror. "Didn't I?" Ritsu didn't bother to press the matter, not entirely sure he wanted to know the truth, and stalked towards the shower—but was stopped just before rounding the corner by a hand around his wrist, yanking him close enough to press a firm kiss to Ritsu's lips.

Still half-asleep and having difficulty mustering up the strength to fight Takano-san this soon after waking, he just groaned his frustration into the kiss. "…What was that?" he grunted, annoyed, when Takano-san finally released him.

"Morning greeting, like I said."

He furtively wiped a sleeve over his lips so Takano-san didn't get any ideas. "Can't you just say 'Good morning' like everyone else?"

"Mmm, this way's more fun."

Ritsu couldn't think of a good comeback for that, and just stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

After procuring omiyage for the rest of the editing team out of a sense of obligation drilled into him by his family, despite knowing the raised brows he'd get when the others realized he and Takano-san had gone on to Hakone alone, Ritsu finally settled into the passenger seat for the long, awkward ride back home. He'd been intent on just napping the whole way—his go-to-defense mechanism for avoiding talking in the car with Takano-san—but had his plans interrupted by Takano-san's insistence on _small talk_.

"It would've been better," he started, just a slight taste of hesitation in his voice, "If the rest of the department could've come, too. It wasn't the worst onsen I've ever been to, and it was quiet. That's all you can really want in a weekend away from Tokyo."

Ritsu could feel Takano-san watching him from the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction to the comment, and he closed his eyes and slumped back against the headrest, shrugging ambivalently. "It wasn't so bad, I guess." He swallowed, steeling himself and clarifying, "Just us."

There was a long stretch of silence, and Ritsu kept himself holed up behind his shut eyes; if he didn't look over at Takano-san, he wouldn't have to see his reaction, wouldn't have to confront a new wave of teasing, wouldn't have to deal with the implications of what he'd said.

But closing his eyes didn't stop Takano-san from reaching out with his free hand and grabbing Ritsu's in his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing softly. "Whatever you say."


End file.
